


Breakfast with the Enemy

by RivenSky



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-28
Updated: 2005-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivenSky/pseuds/RivenSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just breakfast. It doesn't mean anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He was pretty sure there was something in the water. He looked at it again, examining it closely. He knew if he looked close enough he’d be able to find that little spec of… something; that thing that was making his stomach itch. “You realize you’ve been staring at that glass of water for fifteen minutes now.”   
  
Greg Sanders looked up to find David Hodges leaning on the doorframe of the break room. “You were counting?” he questioned with a glare.  
  
Hodges pushed himself away from the doorframe. “That water is either extra special or your losing your mind.” Hodges moved to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. “I’m betting on the latter.” He set his cup on the table and reached for a sugar pack. He narrowed his eyes. “Unless that’s Vodka.”  
  
“Don’t you have evidence to trace?”  
  
“Don’t you have crime scenes to contaminate?”  
  
Greg snarled and downed the last of his water and bit back the feeling in his stomach that he was trying to convince himself came from the water. He moved to throw his plastic cup in the trash, shouldering Hodges out of his way. That shouldering thing was becoming a habit of theirs.  
  
*  
  
It was four o’clock in the morning and as he leaned against the restroom stall all he could think about was the last time he’d had real physical contact with someone. And he didn’t mean bumping shoulders with the annoying guy from Trace. He remembered having more fun when he was working DNA, but he wondered if it was maybe because he was getting older. Perhaps he had lost that spark that had kept him going before.  
  
The restroom door banged opened and he turned. Hodges. Great. “Is this where you hang out now days?” Hodges thought he was so snarky. Greg wondered if snarky was a word. He rolled his eyes and headed for the door as Hodges stepped up to a urinal. As he left he heard Hodges whistling and cursed the man for always being around.  
  
*  
  
Greg had learned early on in his career that he shouldn’t let coworkers bother him. Ecklie had always been right there on the edge and even though Ecklie was the devil he still hadn’t let the man get under his skin. David Hodges was an entirely different thing.  
  
The first time Greg had found himself at the local 24-hour diner with Hodges two stools down, he’d pretended they didn’t know each other… and Hodges seemed more than willing to participate in that game. He wasn’t sure entirely when, but at some point the stools had dwindled until there weren’t any between them and the occasional breakfast together became a disturbingly usual thing. What disturbed him the most was when Hodges didn’t show up and he found himself missing the company. He sometimes wondered if Hodges felt the same when he couldn’t make it after the graveyard shift was over.  
  
Breakfast with Hodges was something that could be written about in paranormal magazines. They could go an entire breakfast without talking to each other and it seemed perfectly normal. Sometimes they would discuss that morning’s news or the sports scores from the night before. Occasionally Hodges would mention something about the ex-wife in LA and his daughter. They never discussed work. And when they were at work, they never discussed anything from the diner.  
  
It was only when Nick made a rude comment about Hodges and Greg almost tried to defend the man that he realized that something had changed. He was still rude to Hodges at work and Hodges was still the snarkiest son-of-a-bitch that ever lived, but that was the work-Hodges. Diner-Hodges was like a totally different man. Greg was almost embarrassed to admit that he considered Diner-Hodges a friend. He ignored Nick and made sure he was there after shift when Hodges sat down on his usual stool.  
  
*  
  
“Well maybe you did it wrong.”  
  
“It’s a GCMS, dumbass, you can’t do it wrong.”  
  
Greg let out a frustrated growl and threw the report back on Hodges desk. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me when Grissom chews your head off.”  
  
“I’ll have to remember to tell that waitress to stop putting so much kiss-ass in your French toast every morning. Your head’s going to get permanently stuck up Grissom’s ass.” Greg didn’t stop at the doorway because of Hodges rude comment. When he turned he knew they both realized that it was the first time they’d ever mentioned their routine of eating breakfast together. Greg frowned and left, a feeling growing inside him.  
  
Greg wondered what everyone would think if they knew about he and Hodges morning routine. No one else ever ate at that diner. Most of the night crew usually went straight home and Sara and Grissom and a few others only ever went to the Denny’s that was half a block closer, and had much better service, than their diner. Their diner. The thought made Greg stop in the middle of the hall. Hodges brushed past him, a hard shoulder, and only glanced back briefly before heading out the front door.  
  
“Coming to Denny’s?’ Sara asked as she and Grissom headed for the door.  
  
A moment went by. “No thanks,” Greg answered. “See you tonight.”  
  
“You always eat at that crappy diner with Hodges,” Sara said. “People are going to start to wonder.” Greg’s eyes widened as he looked from her to Grissom, who only gave him his patented quirk of the eyebrow. So everyone already knew. He hoped they didn’t think… they wouldn’t… God, he hoped not.  
  
*  
  
“What makes you come here?” Greg asked, swirling his glass of water.  
  
“The wonderful service and excellent coffee,” Hodges answered. Greg gave him a sideways glance. “You want to know what my ex-wife told me when I asked her why she wanted a divorce?” Greg turned to fully look at Hodges. When he didn’t answer, Hodges continued, “She said I never talked to her. She never knew what I was thinking. That and I was an asshole.”  
  
They were silent for a while as the waitress set their meals, French toast for Greg and scrambled eggs for Hodges, down in front of them. “Maybe she just didn’t understand your silences,” Greg said idly as he poured syrup over his toast and pushed the cup towards Hodges. The other man took it and poured it liberally over his eggs and sausage. Greg passed him the ketchup for his hash browns. “And you are an asshole.”  
  
“Thank you,” Hodges answered, and it sounded so sincere Greg wasn’t sure what he was being thanked for.  
  
*  
  
It would be a long time before Greg realized that their regular routine of eating breakfast together had become a daily occurrence. Each had even started showing up on their days off. No one ever mentioned it at work and neither mentioned it at work or at the diner. Diner-Hodges had become Dave at some point in Greg’s mind and he never questioned the change. Hodges was still an asshole. Greg still liked to tick him off as much as possible in the lab. But breakfast was still side-by-side at the diner each and every morning of the week. Just Greg and Dave, buddies from work if you asked any of the staff or other patrons of the diner.  
  
Greg still liked to examine his water on occasion. Especially when he felt Dave’s knee touching his and neither made any move to separate the offending knees as they perched on their stools. He would have thought it was the diner water if it wasn’t for the shoulder-bumping incidents at work and so he began considering the possible contamination of all Las Vegas water. Switching to bottled water was deemed fruitless, though, and Hodges only chastised his taste in “freshly bottled tap water” anyway.  
  
As for the shoulder-bumping incidents, Greg was convinced one of the two of them had bad depth perception. Greg naturally blamed Hodges, but the feeling that he always felt after Hodges brushed past him only made him doubt his own intentions. The words I’m going insane were becoming commonplace in Greg’s train of thought.  
  
“Hey, Dave, you got the results back on that fiber yet?” Greg asked as he entered Trace.  
  
“Yeah,” Hodges answered. “Blue upholstery. Commonly used in newer Toyotas. Didn’t you mention something about a Tacoma pickup?”  
  
“I did. Thanks.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Greg was halfway down the hall when he slammed into a metaphorical brick wall and almost knocked Catherine over. “You okay?” she asked. Greg could only nod. He looked back through the glass walls at Trace as Hodges continued working on… whatever he was working on.  
  
*  
  
He knew he’d stopped caring about their knees touching at the diner and the shoulder incidents had become more playful as of late. His skin felt like it was going to itch right off of him on his days off and on Hodges days off. The only cure was the knee against knee action the seclusion of their corner stools provided them.  
  
And at 5:30 in the morning in the lab restrooms Greg was leaning up against his usual stall door with a feeling of calm realization. Hodges entered the restroom and gave him that look of annoyance. Greg didn’t leave as Hodges made his way towards a urinal. He was looking away when Hodges changed his course and came to stand in front of him. Greg looked at him confused. The other man pressed a hand against the stall partition only inches away from Greg’s shoulder. Greg let out a shaking breath and it echoed against the tiles of the restroom.  
  
He wasn’t expecting Hodges other hand to push him into the stall, but allowed it to happened with wide eyes. The stall door swung closed and Greg was pushed to the side. Hodges’ silence spoke volumes to Greg as they stared at each other, Hodges’ hand still on Greg’s chest. Like a flick of a switch in Greg’s head it was Dave standing in front of him and then in an instant it was gone as Hodges’ hand moved to Greg’s neck and their lips came together. Hodges mouth opened and Greg followed suit, his body caving as a tongue brushed against his. That damn-offending knee was pressed between his legs, the thigh pressing against his groin. Greg moaned, a noise he almost didn’t recognize as his own.  
  
The air seemed to be sucked out of him as Hodges pulled away. He straightened Greg’s shirt and smirked as he left the stall. A moment passed and Greg came back to life. “You asshole,” he called after the other man and heard a laugh as the restroom door closed. There was definitely something in the water.


	2. Chapter 2

He sat sideways on his stool contemplating how well vinegar and oil tasted together, yet how ironic it was that they never stayed together if you let them sit. The clock ticked past 8:30 and he stood, getting impatient. He didn't know if he was surprised or not when he stepped out the door of the diner and found Greg standing at the curb. Greg looked up at the jingling of the bells on the door. He just waited until Greg finally spoke. "Sorry. Running late today."  
  
"You left when I did," Hodges responded and fished his keys out of his pocket. "See you tonight." He moved to his car, pushing the button on his remote to unlock the door.  
  
"I meant it you know," made him look back at Greg. "You are an asshole. You can't just do that and walk away."  
  
"You're starting to sound like a woman, Sanders," Hodges answered and opened the car door. He told himself not to look back and when he did he knew he should have listened to himself. Greg was making those eyes, the ones that reminded him of one of those little yippy dogs. He hated yippy dogs. He said the first thing that popped into his head to get rid of that look. "Are you still hungry?"  
  
Greg's eyes narrowed. "I guess."  
  
Hodges nodded Greg’s car. "Follow me." Greg hesitated, most likely out of surprise than anything else. Hodges drummed his fingers on the roof of his car and watched as Greg made his decision, moving forward and opening the door of his own car.  
  
*  
  
He couldn't help but wait for Greg's reaction to him taking him home. He pulled into his driveway and turned the car off, daring himself not to look over at Greg as the other man pulled his car into the driveway beside his. Hodges locked his own car and only listened for the sound of Greg getting out of his car.  
  
Greg followed him in to his house and he watched out of the corner of his eye as Greg turned to absorb his surroundings. The dog came bounding through the dog door at the back and he watched with morbid amusement as it launched itself at Greg. "Greg. Crusher."  
  
"You named your dog Crusher?" Greg asked, stumbling back as the dog pressed itself against him.  
  
"He likes to crush things with his mouth," Hodges responded and dropped his keys on the counter as he entered the kitchen. Greg patted the rottweiler’s head timidly. Crusher was a wuss in reality and it ticked Hodges off but he'd never admit either fact. Greg moved into the kitchen, Crusher right on his heels like a puppy. Hodges glared at the dog. "The best I can do is eggs and toast," Hodges said, opening the refrigerator.  
  
"That's fine," Greg answered. Hodges set a carton of eggs and a bag of bread on the counter. As he pulled a pan out and set it on the stove he finally decided to say something.  
  
"You're wondering if it means something." He flipped the burner on and opened a cabinet to find the Pam. "I don't have an answer for you."  
  
"You're emotionally retarded. Don't worry. I get it." Hodges set the Pam down with a thump and looked over at the younger man. There was a brief (very brief) instant when Greg looked scared, but it passed. Hodges found himself nodding thoughtfully as he sprayed the pan.  
  
"How do you like your eggs?"  
  
"Over easy."  
  
"You look like an easy kind of guy," Hodges commented with a smirk.  
  
"Funny."  
  
Crusher made a yipping noise and Hodges glared out of the corner of his eye until he saw Greg reach down and scratch the dog's ear. He found himself smiling at the look of disgust when Crusher drooled on Greg's shoe. "So have you always liked fucking with people's minds?" Greg asked as Hodges dropped a couple slices of bread into the toaster.  
  
"It's a hobby," Hodges answered before he'd really even thought about it. He did that a lot.  
  
"How's that working out for you?"  
  
"Pretty well. Thanks for asking."  
  
It wasn't long before he was setting a plate of food down in front of Greg at the table and sitting down in front of his own plate. It felt weird eating across the table from the other man. They ate in silence, not uncommon for them, and Crusher watched both of them.  
  
*  
  
He didn't know if other people expected it from him, but Hodges liked to consider himself a very clean person. He'd quit smoking when his wife left him mostly because he'd only really started smoking because she didn't like it. Crusher was the messy one, always tracking in mud and leaving the carpet looking like shit. But Crusher was his only company and shooting the poor mutt seemed too cruel even for Hodges.  
  
Greg was looking at a picture of his daughter and it was making him uncomfortable. "She's pretty," Greg commented, looking up at him. "Must look like her mother." And Greg couldn't help but smile at his own remark. Hodges had made a mental note a long time ago that Greg Sanders wasn't very good at deadpanning. He was always too proud of himself, a thought that could be considered hypocritical coming from David Hodges. "How old is she?"  
  
"She'll be 18 next month."  
  
"Wow. I can't see you as the father of a teenager."  
  
"Funny. She said the same thing." Hodges let Crusher out the back door and locked the dog door. The dog whined his protest and he turned to find Greg staring at him. They were silent for way too long, staring at each other from twenty feet away. Finally, Greg moved forward, coming to stand only inches away. He bit his lip in a way that pissed Hodges off... mostly because it turned him on. And that was the last thing he'd ever intended with Greg. He still wasn't sure why he'd made the move he had that morning in the lab restroom.  
  
"Why'd you bring me here?"  
  
"It's easier to get away with murder in your own home. I think this'd be the last place they'd look for you." And Hodges realized that he wasn't as sarcastically funny as he used to be.  
  
"Ah," was all Greg said and it was suddenly obvious to Hodges that Greg wasn't about to let what happened between them go. He was starting to wonder if he even wanted to let it go himself. He held his breath as Greg tested the water, moving so close to Hodges that, even though they weren't touching, he could still feel the heat of Greg's skin. "Are you going to at least kiss me before you kill me?" When Greg spoke Hodges felt his skin crawl and wondered if it showed how aroused he was by the younger man.  
  
He'd always had a thing for younger men and in reality it was why his wife had left him. When she'd confronted him about there being another woman and when he told her there wasn't one she'd finally figured it out. "The only thing worse than there being another woman is there being a man." And when he hadn't answered, that had been the end of their marriage.  
  
It was Greg that bridged the gap, slipping a hand around Hodges waist and pulling his body up against his taller frame. There was a hot mouth on his then, demanding reciprocation, and Hodges found himself more than willing to cooperate. Greg pushed him up against the wall separating the kitchen from the living room and pressed his hips against Hodges own.  
  
Hodges couldn’t swallow his gasp fast enough when Greg pulled away and he realized quickly that they were even now. The seconds ticked past on the antique clock on his mantle as their eyes locked. It was any man’s move and throwing any caution to the wind, Hodges took the bait, pushing Greg against the adjacent wall, knocking a scenic picture askew.  
  
Greg let out a muffled grunt as their lips collided, as did their bodies. Fingers gripped the hair on the back of Hodges head as he let his teeth grasp Greg’s bottom lip. They both let out gasps from the sting of each other’s aggression. Hodges let his thigh press against Greg’s groin and bit down hard. Greg whined and Hodges pulled away, surprised by the noise, but Greg didn’t let him go far. He watched the malice flash through the younger man’s eyes and felt the heat pressed against his thigh. “Don’t stop,” Greg whispered in a husky voice, snapping Hodges out of his haze. The older man searched the brown eyes one last time, the lust making them darker than he remembered them, and pressed himself hard against Greg. They both knew what each other wanted.  
  
Hodges didn’t give Greg time to absorb his surroundings as he shoved the man into his bedroom. Greg had already unbuttoned the older man’s shirt as they reached the room, his hand sliding inside the fabric. His nails grazed against Hodges skin making blue eyes roll back. Shoes were toed off. Greg’s T-shirt was pulled over his head and tossed aside exposing his chest to Hodges eyes and it was safe to say that Hodges enjoyed the view. The younger body pressed itself against his, a mouth on his neck, and he let out a moan. His fingers found Greg’s hair and he was surprised at how soft it was. He grasped the hair hard as a hot tongue glided up to his ear and a mouth enveloped the lobe and sucked briefly before it moved back to his mouth.  
  
Greg’s fingers found the zipper on Hodges pants and a moment of panic flooded through Hodges system as he realized what he was doing and with whom. He pulled away, releasing the CSI’s lip from his teeth and stared into Greg Sanders eyes. The brown eyes just questioned him, the fingers halting in their course. There was a change then as he debated what defenses to let down and which ones to keep up and Greg seemed to understand like he’d known this Dave all his life. Brown eyes held his blue for a moment that seemed to last a lifetime before he reacted, pushing the man away from him and watching with sick amusement as Greg gasped and fell back onto the bed.  
  
He was pretty sure that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde had started a war inside him and he wasn’t sure who won as he slid over Greg’s legs. He was perched above Greg and again their eyes were locked, watching each other, waiting to see who cracked first as if it were a game of chicken. Greg’s hands were at the hem of his pants again as sunlight fractured itself through the Venetian blinds and glinted in Greg’s eyes. The antique clock ticked loudly in the next room. “Dave?” Greg’s voice had a husk to it when he spoke, his hand moving to the older man’s cheek.  
  
He looked away, unable to look into those brown eyes anymore. “Forgive me.”  
  
Greg put his other hand on Hodges’ face, forcing their eyes to meet. “There’s nothing to forgive.”  
  
“I can’t do this.” His body was begging to differ, and he was certain Greg could tell. “I’m sorry.” Hodges moved, their bodies loosing contact and screaming in protest. He sat on the end of the bed waiting for Greg to say anything. He waited for Greg to make some callous comment, but it didn’t come. He felt a hand on his shoulder and didn’t dare look.  
  
A voice whispered in his ear, so close it made him shiver, “I can wait until you’re ready.” A hand ran over his hair, and he closed his eyes. “I’m yours when you want me.” Greg was gone when he opened his eyes.  
  
*  
  
Greg had put it off as long as he could before Grissom’s raised voice sent him packing for Trace to get the results from their case. How they’d managed to go so long without seeing each other, he had no idea, but it helped that he’d been in the field most of the night. He rounded the corner with a pain in his chest and saw Hodges’ back first. Nick and Warrick were already there, giving Hodges a bad time. “The more you beg me for the results the farther down the pile they go.”  
  
“These are murder investigations, Hodges,” Warrick said incredulously.  
  
“Your case is next on my to do list. Give me some credit and let me get back to work.”  
  
“Catherine is going to be pissed,” Nick told Warrick as they stepped out of the lab. They nodded at Greg and moved along.  
  
His feet did the right thing, even though his mind screamed at them, as he stepped into Hodges’ lab. He opened his mouth to speak when the other man turned and caught sight of him. There was a flicker in the blues eyes and Greg found himself smiling as the other man spoke. “Hey, Greg.”  
  
“Hey, Dave. What’ve you got for me?”  
  
“Come and see,” Dave nodded towards the microscope. With a small smirk Greg moved to stand beside Dave and he looked down the scope. He could feel the air move around them. His body’s senses flared.  
  
Greg looked up, his hands grasping the table on either side of the microscope. “Coffee grinds?”  
  
“Bonus points if you can guess what kind.”  
  
Greg’s smirk broadened into a coy smile. “What would I get to use my bonus points for?” Dave’s fingers were touching his.  
  
“Depends on whether you get them or not.” And Dave waggled his eyebrows for effect.  
  
Greg looked back down the scope, biting his lip. “Dark. Finely ground.” He looked up, a full-blown smile on his face. “Espresso beans.” Dave narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Ahem.” They both jumped, their hands breaking contact as they turned to find Catherine in the doorway. “When you guys are done mooning over each other can I get the results of my evidence?” Greg’s jaw dropped.  
  
“What’s in it for me?” Was all Hodges said, his eyes still narrowed.  
  
“I don’t tell Ecklie about you two,” Catherine responded matter-of-factly. Greg turned to look at Hodges as the other man grabbed a folder and stepped forward to hand it to Catherine. “Thank you.” She turned to go, but stopped. “Oh, and do remember that these walls are made of glass.” She winked at them and left. Two panes of glass over, Mia and Jacqui averted their gazes.  
  
Greg looked back to Dave and felt a calmness settle over him at the sight of the older man’s small smile. “So what do I get to use my bonus points for?”  
  
Dave pushed a folder to his chest and shouldered him out of the way as he moved across his lab. “You’ll find out after shift.” Greg smiled, his folder clutched to his chest.  
  
“Greg!” The voice resounded through the lab and Greg moved quickly towards Grissom’s office, too lazy to wipe the stupid smile off his face.


End file.
